


Keeping Up With The Batdashians

by finch_in_flight



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: BRUCE HAS ARRIVED, Bruce barely makes an appearance but oH wELL, I finally updated, I’ve been binge watching tcw so ye, Multi, Other, Same with Ollie, binge looks like a fake word tbh, enjoy?, nOW INCLUDING STAR WARS SHENANIGANS, public school is wild, this is just literally shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-02-16 16:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13058067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finch_in_flight/pseuds/finch_in_flight
Summary: What is someone supposed to do when they live a shitpost with a family of crime fighting idiots? Stay tuned as we dig through the endless chaotic hilarity that follows the Batdashians and friends, dick jokes, sarcasm in all forms, real stories of things that I’ve witnessed firsthand, or conversations I’ve had with people.After all, high school is crazy enough as it is. And I gave the Batdashians guns.





	1. The Dubstep Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feb 13th, 2018
> 
> Fixed some dialogue issues, and rephrased a few things :)

**Chapter One //**

[“Is dubstep a country?” Roy @ Jason]

 

It was an average day at Gotham High, the totally original school made for this shitty fic, when a conundrum occured. 

 

It was Thursday, last hour of the day, and Jason was tired. Not of everything, for once, but just tired. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and because of the addition of a Draco Malfoy wannabe at home, he had been on edge. The boy needed a good knee-slappin’ laughing fit, but he didn’t know that, so shh, it’s a secret. 

 

Science class was always interesting at Gotham High, at least, depending on what teacher you got. Jason’s teacher was a 5’2” lady named Ms. Hogan, fresh out of college and willing to fight her students, Hogan was a fantastic teacher. She gave Roy a lighter once and had him send a bottle rocket at Wally, who screamed and hugged onto Dick since the two were sitting on the counter beside the runway of tables. That had been a fun day, Roy cackling like a maniac when the empty 2 Liter bottle with a trail of flames hit the wall with a spray of rubbing alcohol left behind. Lesson learned? Roy and fire are a bad mix. 

 

Moving on, it was 8th period science with Hogan. Today the class was taking simple notes, and although they were simple, there was quite a bit to write. Copying the text on kinetic energy and whatnot, Jason started talking to his tablemates--Roy, Wally, and Dick.

 

“Hey, birdboy, you finished the calc assignment we had?”

  
  


Dick glanced up from his chicken scratch of a mess known as his handwriting. There was a reason he liked typing everything, and this was why. His handwriting was shit. Absolute shit. And somehow the english teachers managed to read it, something that puzzles the entire Wayne family.

 

“Nah, I didn’t. Kori did though.” He sent Jason a dimpled smile, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, and continuing to write, if you could even call his scribbling writing.

 

Kori was a friend of the group. Now, you’re expecting me, the author, to make her into a weird exchange student for the sake of the fic, yeah? Well, I may be taking liberties, but not here. Kori is still an alien princess from a planet called Tamaran who had come to Earth for reasons very few know. Even though she was taller than your average grown man, she was still young, and decided to enroll in school like the rest of the teens in her age range. Fortunately for her, hallway traffic isn’t a thing, she just flies over them. While lacking some social skills, Kori is stellar at math, which she uses to her advantage, bribing Dick to tutor her in English while she helps him with Calculus. 

 

Jason bit his cheek, blissfully unaware of Roy across from him staring into space. “Think you could take pictures of it and let me copy?”

 

“Yeah, no problem. I’m going over to her place after school, you might need to remind Bruce though.” Dick chuckled before continuing,“I think he may have forgotten.”

 

Wally leaned forward, ever the peanut gallery, just to add, “He’s been pretty busy with the internship for Tim, yeah? Plus you guys have that little weeaboo ninja kid too now.”

 

“Yep yep. Although, Bruce is like always busy, it’s Bruce,” Dick said, trying to be cool and tapping the side of his head like that one meme.

 

“Dead memes should stay dead,” Jason spat as he turned to the right, purposefully ignoring Dick, to talk to Wally, “weeaboo?”

 

Roy, having been oddly silent and dissociating across the table from Jason chimed in, “it’s slang for like hardcore anime fans, you know?” he sat up straight, gesticulating with his hand as he spoke, “like that one kid in history that has the shirt with the girl with the green pigtails--”

 

“Oh wait, the kid who does those little dances when she thinks nobody is looking?”

 

“Yup!” Roy leaned forward a little on his elbows. “That’s basically what it is. Damian has a katana, which like, it’s a real weapon, but it’s also still really funny. Especially since the one time I was over at your house, and Tim managed to get him to play Overwatch, he mained Genji.”

 

Wally cackled, “did he really main Genji? Golly, next you’ll be telling me Tim mains Sombra.”

 

“Actually,” Roy beamed as he continued, “he mains Reaper. Has the matching red and black gamer shit too.”

 

Wally let out a weird mix of a groan and a squeal, laughing heavily, “this is gold oh my god.”

 

Dick, ever the party pooper, threw his pen at Wally. “You know what else is gold? Actually working.”

 

And so the queer musketeers and Dick got back to work, Wally still snickering over Tim maining Reaper. By the time everyone had gotten their notes finished, and later the handout Hogan gave everyone, Roy dissociated again. 

 

Turning to Jason, looking concerned and confused, Roy asked, “hey Jay?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Is dubstep a country?”

 

Wally shot up howling with laughter, his chair falling over. Dick covered his mouth, quieting his giggles as Jason sat there looking very  _ very  _ done with everything. And Roy? Well, poor boy looked like he was having an existential crisis. 

 

“Roy,” Jason started, “what the fuck?”

 

“I didn’t sleep at all last night and Ollie gave me a can of something this morning and now I can’t feel feelings and I’m doubting everything I know.” Roy lay his head on the table, flipping his jacket hood over himself, or at least trying to. It didn’t quite work, landing on the back of his neck .

 

Jason let out a baby sigh, concerned for Roy, but also relieved it was just because of whatever hellish double shot coffee Oliver must have given the ginger, who has no caffeine tolerance. 

 

Thanks for keeping up with the Batdashians. 

  
  



	2. Doors and Furries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feb 13th, 2018
> 
> Fixed dialogue issues :D

**Chapter Two** //

[Jason buying a door from “Goodwill” (Home Depot) and slamming Damian into it by the throat] [Dick accidentally dates Beast Boy the femboy furry from a furry chatroom]

 

To say it was an average day at Gotham High would be a got dang lie. It was finals week and everyone was strung up on stress and panic and even the stoner kids were having a Time trying to work with the weird schedules and teachers assigning too much review homework. And with the holidays coming up, it was hell. Well, maybe not as hellish as some of the stuff these superhero teens go through on a regular basis, nightlife and all that. And no, not the scandalous kind of nightlife, I’m talking about the kind where you shot through the shoulder because you pull a Stupid (Read: Pulled a Roy) on a mission (Read: Royconnaissance) while dressed in spandex. Fun, right?

 

It was the blank empty time before school started, but after the busses dumped students out to live each day in the gross building without air conditioning or decent heating. What is warm air? Who the fuck knows. Apparently Gotham Heckin’ High doesn’t.

 

Jason and Roy sat in the school’s commons, the cafeteria before food got brought out, waiting for Kori to meet them. Although, she was probably with Dick. Either making out or beating him with a book because the only way he can absorb math is through osmosis. And apparently osmosis to the head works when you slam him (Dick)  with a book.

 

“Hey Jay, you think he’ll get chronic traumatic encephalopathy?”

 

Jason lifted his head off his arms, “who?”

 

“Dick.” Roy scooted his pen around the table with a finger, obviously bored reading his anatomy packet review, although still having to force himself to do it because grades are a thing that exist, “he’s had probably a lot of concussions and all that, you think his brain will shrivel up and become a raisin from the damage?”

 

Jason snickered, sitting up to rest his chin on his hands. “That’s assuming he had one to begin with.”

 

Roy smiled a knowing smile, playing on. “Ah yes, his English skills must be because of that time he slammed into your copy of ‘Confessions of a Jane Austen Addict’ when you were trying to hit Tim.”

 

“Hey man, it’s a good book. Not like, classical literature, but still really funny.”

 

“I know,” Roy preened, “I read it.”

 

“Wow, you read?” Jason drawled out with a shit-eating grin, obviously poking fun at the boy across from him.

 

Roy kicked his boyfriend from under the table, “in fact I do. Just because I read horror and mystery and serial killer shit doesn’t mean I don’t read-”

 

“Have you even ever tried reading a classic book?”

 

“‘The Great Gatsby’ was actual garbage, sure it’s a classic but it’s also bad writing.”

 

“I’ll have to agree with you there,” Jason nodded along with Roy.

 

The two sat in silence for a moment, Roy finally packing up his review stuff and pulling his hair into a baby ponytail, digging around his bag for the tacky jeweled barrettes Kori gave him for his birthday to pin his bangs up.

 

“So,” the ginger started, “what are your plans for break?”

 

Jason groaned, slamming his face into his hands.

 

“You good booboo?”

 

“No. The weeb is getting on my nerves again and I’m going to have to be around him all three weeks of winter break and I’m just,” he ended in a fit of dying yak noises.

 

“You know what,” Jason sat back up, fixing Roy with a stare of ice, “I’ll buy a door. From, what is it called? Goodwill? Wait- fuck- it’s Home Depot. I’ll buy a door from Home Depot, take that little demon spawn by the throat, and slam him through it.”

 

Roy laughed loudly, “Goodwill, huh? Didn't know they sold doors there.”

 

“Oh hush, you know what I meant.”

 

“MMmmmmmmmmmhmmm”

 

Jason sighed, giving Roy the Look. Roy countering with that coy feline smile he often did.

 

Seconds later, Dick threw himself into the seat next to Jason, looking panicked as hell. “Guys I need help.” 

 

“What’s good, Dickie G-” Roy got cut off, quite quickly too. His face contorted into one of mock pain.

 

“I made a mistake, I was on a furry chatroom and things happened and now I’m dating a boy-”

 

“You? Dating a boy?” Jason snorted, having a great time. See, Dick was hella bi, but he was too dense to see it. Wally had been hardcore hitting on him for months now, and discoboy was none the wiser to the speedster’s advances. 

 

“I mean, he’s a femboy, so it isn’t that bad I guess?” Dick offered Jason, sheepishly ducking his head.

 

Roy interrupted, “wait wait wait, let me get this straight,” Jason snorted again, loudly, “you’re not only a furry, but the physical embodiment of no homo, and now you’re dating a femboy you met the other night on a chatroom?”

 

Dick nodded, the no homo comment going right over his head, “yeeeah…”

 

“What the fuck, Richard?”

 

Dick turned pink around the edges, “he told me his name, and he uh.. He goes here……”

 

Jason slapped the table, cackling loudly, not caring about the small snorts spilling in, “he goes here? Holy shit man what’s his name?”

 

“Garfield-”

 

Roy gasped, “Beebs? Beasty Boo? The one and only Beast Blaster 6000?”

 

Dick nodded, biting his cheek. 

 

“Amazing,” Roy breathed out, smiling like an idiot.

 


	3. Tag Yo'self: I'm Grievous' Robodick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Special thanks to Jeremy for reminding me to continue this series, I'd lowkey forgotten about it. Thank you's to Cat and Kelso too, y'all liking what I write is what keeps me going. Special thanks as well to James and CJ for the fantastic lunch conversations of if Obi-wan was a DILF of not, and for putting up with me as we made Grievous dick jokes. I love you guys <3
> 
> Feb 13th, 2018
> 
> Fixed some minor dialogue issues, added in some more stuff

**Chapter Three //**

[Someone tapes Dami to the ceiling, “He must sleep where the spiders live”]

[“I’d let Darth Maul raw me”]

[“Is Obi-wan a DILF?”]

 

Tuesday night: Wayne Manor. In summary?

 

Literal shitstorm in E minor.

 

Roy had been basically camped at the manor, since Oliver was out on a long term mission, and somehow managed to get the entire batfam to watch Star Wars: The Clone Wars, circa 2008-2010. Currently though, all the boys were fighting over headcanons, Damian getting his edgy ones blown out of the way for more meme-like ones. And truth be told? Alfred had a small grin on his face as he closed the door to the decked out basement the boys were chilling in. It was nice to see everyone in good spirits--even Bruce was faintly smiling over all his boys sharing something they all liked. I mean, they all shared nightlife stuff, but nobody particularly loved it, it was just a job, a duty. They’d pride themselves on keeping people safe, but sometimes the severity of it all set in: they were just kids.

 

“But Todd! Consider! Through thorough training and actual guidance, Anakin could’ve stayed on the side of the light, or at least neutrality!” Damian yelled across the room full of boys, throwing a pillow at Jason while standing on the back of the couch. His hair was sticking up all over, eyes shining, wearing nothing but some green striped boxers and a loose tank-top. He hadn’t had this much fun in a while, even if it was only arguing Star Wars theories with his brothers and their friend. 

 

Jason grabbed Damian’s pillow, slamming it into Dick’s stomach since discoboy was beside him. Dick went down with a rather audible “oof,” pulling Jason down with him, yelling, “Tim! Get Damian!”

 

Damian lowered his stance to more of a crouch, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice as Tim stared blankly at Dick, a lopsided grin blossoming across his face as he retorted a simple, “nah.” 

 

Damian mock saluted. “Thank you, Drake, you are a formidable ally.”

 

“You’re a little shit, Dami. But I love you.” Tim pulled the little assassin into a one armed side hug, the two making smug little faces at all the others like the eggs they were.

 

“Tape him to the ceiling! He must sleep where the spiders live!” Dick hissed from underneath Jason, still.

 

Roy, popping up from behind the couch Tim was standing next to, and Damian on, stuck a finger in the air. “In all actuality, to save the Star Wars franchise with the least amount of collateral damage, young Darth Maul should’ve been trained by Shaak Ti, she’s like the ultimate space mom, and Bananakin Shitwalker should’ve been left on Tatooine-sand-hell.”

 

“Completely off topic,” Roy continued as Dickie G and Jayjay the jetplane pulled themselves off the floor, “I’d let Darth Maul raw me.”

 

Tim let out a disgusted noise, moving away from Roy and Damian while putting his hands in a Naruto hand sign. “The power of Kurama compels you-”

 

“You’re disgusting, Roy.”

 

“Thank you, Jason.”

 

All five of them managed to get settled on the couch like normal people once more, curling up with each other--even Damian--as the Star Wars theme blasted on in the background.

 

“Soooo, guys, is Obi-wan a DILF?”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Roy.” Jason poked the redhead in the side. 

 

“No I’m serious. Like, he’s what, 30-something during tcw? So that makes him old enough to be one, but he doesn’t have any kids so like, is he an OGILF?”

 

“A whaT?” Dick cackled, sitting forward to stare at Roy who was on Jason’s left.

 

“An OGILF,” Roy said back, smiling and leaning forward too. “Old Guy I’d Like to Fuck.”

 

“Well,” Damian butted in, “technically Anakin is childish enough that we could consider him Kenobi’s son.”

 

“Good point, good point,” Roy murmured, a hand on his chin. He fell silent as the episode progressed, the others equally so. Here and there small quips were made, usually followed by a laugh or a groan. Three episodes later, a soft knock sounded on the door, Alfred walking in, setting a box of caprisun’s on the table.

 

“How’s it going, boys?”

 

“It’s going good!” Dick smiled his dimpled sweetheart smile. Tim gagged on the caprisun straw as Damian hit the bottom of the pouch. Jason turned to Alfred, smiling too, an arm around soft boy Roy. “We’re all doing great, and thanks for the juice.”

 

Alfred nodded, pausing for a second to watch the screen. “I remember when Episode III came out, it was a phenomenal deal, you know?”

 

“Who was your favorite?” Damian asked, shoving his cold feet under Dick’s thighs, his back leaning on Tim’s shoulder. 

 

“I was always fond of Master Yoda, he’s small yet mighty, and quite the interesting character.”

 

Roy shot his arm straight up, gathering attention. “My favorite Jedi master is probably a tie between Fisto and Plo, not gonna lie.”

 

“What about Obi-wan?”

 

“Shit you right, Obi-wan is bae, he’s my favorite.”

 

"OOoh okay guys, tag yourself, I'm Anakin's robot hand!"

 

"Uh duh, I'm Grievous' robodick-"

 

"No, Roy."

 

"Hey man, you know he's got to have one!"

 

Alfred sighed. 

  
  



	4. What's New Pussyduck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feb 13th, 2018
> 
> Fixed some dialogue issues

**Chapter Four //**

[Anatomy brain dissection, Roy and Wally throw half a brain back and forth, the brain falls and splats on the ground, Jason watches with Tim and sighs]

[Roy finds a half eaten hot pocket on the floor and eats it, Jason yells at him]

[“Let me suckle yo tiddy” Wally @ Dick]

 

Standard anatomy class procedures, you know? Standard. Except at Gotham High, the “standard” was usually along the line of mayhem with a touch of madness. I mean, this is Gotham, what else is there to expect? And so, yes, standard anatomy class procedures. Today, like every other day, was Special. The Big Man Bruce Wayne was sitting in on a class, observing if you will, partially teaching maybe? It’s unclear. He’s there though, in Jason’s third hour anatomy class taught by this 5’2” angry little woman who says the silliest of things. Unfortunately for Bruce, he’d get to witness firsthand just how wild Caldwell’s anatomy class was. He was less than thrilled about that, but also intrigued--Jason had come home with many stories from that class. Besides, watching an hour or so of absolute chaos was better than any staff meeting. Responsibilities who? Don’t know her. 

 

Things started off relatively normal, the kids grabbing the sheets of butcher paper splattered with fake blood from the forensics class, Caldwell had snagged the sheets to use as tablecloths for the dissections. Oh right, I forgot to mention, it was Dissection Lab Day. Meaning? Everyone was gonna get elbow deep in an build a bear bulbasaur’s ass--excuse me, elbow deep in formalin covered sheep brains. Delicious.

 

It was an understatement to say Roy wouldn’t try to not eat one. The kid ate a fucking hot pocket he found on the ground, or at least attempted to, before Jason scolded the living daylight out of the ginger idiot. Thankfully, it had still been wrapped. Unfortunately, it had defrosted on the linoleum floor of the school and was probably a cesspool of bacteria. Fortunately, Roy didn’t even get to lick the shitty pastry that made up the outside of it before Jason had smacked it out of his hand, tugging on his boyfriend’s ear because what the fuck Roy why would you do such a thing. 

 

He had been hungry and forgot his lunch money btw. 

 

And yes, Jason, with Bruce’s money, bought his idiot bf some decent fucking food. bECAUSE HE IS A GOOD PERSON ALSO FUCK YOU

 

Moving on. Dissection procedures. Once the lab groups had gotten together in squads of four to a table, with their fake-blood-splattered-paper-tablecloths laid out across those hard topped tables, you know them. The standard science class tables. Rickety wooden legs, hard black tops that can be bleached, set of fire, and drawn all over, and come out perfectly fine. Those tables. One time, in Jason’s freshman year, with ironically enough, Caldwell as his bio teacher, Tim had gotten really bored and pulled his longboard wrench out, unscrewed one of the table legs, and kicked it out from under the table. Nothing had broken, but Tim was sentenced to the corner of shame with no desk for the rest of the year.

 

Once the lab groups were set up, Caldwell started handing out long strips of masking tape to make labels for little pins that the students would be sticking in the brain. If Bruce weren’t there, hovering by Jason and Tim (who were, incidentally, in a quartet for the lab with a quiet girl named Raven, and Tim’s not-so-secret crush, Kon-El, who dressed like he was straight out of an 80’s edition of Teen Vogue), the two birb boys would’ve made themselves labels with the tape that said gay on them.  On the bright side, Jay got to live vicariously through his boyfriend, who did just That and stuck the tape on his snapback that he somehow got away with wearing indoors. 

 

“Alright kids, settle down--SETTLE DOWN YOU LITTLE FREAKS!” Caldwell’s voice echoed throughout the classroom as she wheeled in a big plastic cart with white cylindrical tubs, some trays, and little chequebook lookin thingies. “We’ve got a lab to do. Well, you guys have a lab to do. So! Once you make your labels on the pins”--she paused, going wide eyed--”oh right, the pins.”

 

Scuttling around holding a decent sized box of very sharp pins, Caldwell started ranting about parts of the brain as she distributed the stabby little shits. Several kids got up to get some gloves, which sadly, there was only size small available, and others grabbed aprons. A few more minutes passed, and brains were pulled out of the formalin from the white buckets, and set on trays for the students to dissect. Bruce was leaning against the counter, just kinda, observing everything. And by everything, I mean this one obnoxious kid who was like a vegan, always spouting just shit, but it was quoting vines or saying he was gay. 

 

Things only got weirder after that, and boy did Bruce have a good time watching it.

 

At one point, Wally had started cracking jokes with Dick, the two of them following their usual scheme of stupid. They also were talking a bit about Lord of the Ring theories?? Jason turned to the two bros, his gaze softening when he saw Roy filling out the lab packet. His face of adoration quickly turned to minor disgust as he watched Roy straight up start cutting the brain apart with a scalpel, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, no gloves on. Unbeknownst to many in the class, Roy had no problem touching “gross” things. Blame Oliver. He made Roy wash some weirdass dishes. 

 

A bit loudly, Wally had started laughing so hard he almost fell out of his chair, Dick giving him a shit-eating grin. “Hey, hey man, bro, hey bro.”

 

“What is it bro?”

 

“Lemme suckle yo tiddy-”

 

“No bro, too homo.”

 

“Hmm okay. Mispronounce a pokemon name: go.”

 

Wally, barely composed enough to talk, replied, “bulbnaswar!”

 

“Chermernder.”

 

“Chikhoritah.”

 

And back and forth it went a few more times before Roy decided to jump in. “Pussyduck!”

 

Wally choked on his spit, Kory tilting her head in confusion. “Pussyduck?”

 

“Yeah man,” Dick added, “what pokemon is that supposed to be?”

 

“Psyduck. I saw this post once talking about some kids saying it pussyduck instead.”

 

Tim, quietly, from next to Jason and Bruce, wiggled his brows at Raven while singing, “What’s new Pussyduck?” To which she let out a small snort. 

 

Bruce shook his head, hiding a smile. This was a lot more fun than business meeting, in so many ways. And it only got better when he noticed two half-wit idiots tossing half a brain back and forth. Wally and Roy were having a good time seeing how many times they could toss the slimy blob, and they were at it for quite a few minutes.

 

“Jason,” Bruce mumbled, setting a hand on his adopted son’s shoulder, “that’s the boy you’re dating, right?” He pointed at Roy. And right as Jason said yeah and turned to look at the ginger once again, Roy managed to fumble catching the brain. 

 

Oh boy.

 

Jason and Bruce felt like the only two people in the world who saw what just happened. Well, apparently Tim saw too since he let out a loud sigh. What happened? Oh, well, that half a brain the two boys were tossing back and forth fell to the ground with a gag-worthy splat. And neither of the idiots who had tossed it about seemed to notice? For some reason?

 

It just sat there, half a sheep’s brain on the dirty floor, almost getting stepped on a few times before Roy finally noticed it, and picked it up.

 

Tim turned back to his dad and brother, shielding his eyes from the literal embodiment of ketchup and mustard, whispering with an amused look, “you know why they were playing with half a brain? It’s because it’s all they have between the two of them.”

  
  



	5. International House Of Bitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow long time no update because I'm a shitlord. I've been busy, worked a bunch during the summer, and now I'm in college and boy howdy I am in a constant state of accepting death. That being said, I hope to get back into updating this regularly. I miss writing for this

**Chapter Five //**

 

[getting stood up on a date, going to build a bear instead and getting a fat fucking bulbasaur, the employee shoving their hand in its ass to put the scent piece in]

[“Absolutely not!”]

[“There’s nothing edgier than communism”]

[“I had an intellectual debate cut short because it descended into memes”]

[“How much do eagles weigh? Like a pound?”]

[Crabs for hands]

[Shrek tattoo at ihop]

  
  


To say Tim was a little sad was a huge lie. The boy was mega sad. Totally sad. Horrendously sad. Prolifically sad. You get the picture. He had been stood up on a date with this one cute kid from his theater class, one who now pretended he didn’t exist, except to add onto his jokes, which was a dick move. Like really, Dick would do that all the time, it was ridickulous. 

 

Hah, see what I did there?

 

Anyway, in his little grey slice of life, Tim texted Roy. Why? Well, even if they weren’t close, Roy was a genius dumbass and could make anyone feel better. Plus Jason recently broke up with the Discount Robin Hood 2.0, and honestly? He thought Roy could use the company too.

 

Two bros, chillin’ in depression, five feet apart because they’re kinda gay but not for each other.

 

A small buzz grabbed Tim’s attention, the Sad Boy looked at his phone screen to see the following:

 

Mr. Arse 10:59 // Hey Timbo, got your message. When do we want to meet, also where? Idk about n’yall but I’m pretty hungry, so if we meet now we should get some food :P

 

Never before was Tim so happy to get a text from anyone.

 

There was a level of sadness that gripped him as he got ready to go out, skirting around Alfred and his brothers as he finally took a shower for the first time in a few days. Patrol had been rough, and on top of school relations Tim really was exhausted on all levels. Thoughts like this came to him as he washed his hair, purposefully using Damian’s kid shampoo just in case the world decided he needed to cry. He wasn’t against crying, he just didn’t feel like having to deal with that right now.

 

He felt a little dumb for being so up in arms and hurt over getting ignored by the theater kid, and he knew that the nightlife was just a shitshow as it was. Everyone else had been tense too as of late, Damian had been getting in fights at school, Bruce had picked up a bad habit of drinking a lot more than usual, Jason was hardly at home. The person that worried Tim probably more than Tim was sad right now was Dick. He’d gotten the snot kicked out of him and was put on bedrest by Alfred, but the team had still needed him--he put on his suit and joined them anyway. 

 

In Tim’s opinion, he would hate to be Dick. Getting called Boy Wonder, being kept to high expectations. Dick ridiculed himself constantly to lighten tensions and make people smile in dark times, part of why he came up with that ridiculous story of dating a furry femboy--Jason had been feeling less than great during then, and Dick’s floundering gave him a bit of a reason to feel better.

 

Dick sure was an enigma, and Tim had the feeling that he might need to actually sit down with someone and talk. Maybe Roy? The two used to be close, maybe they could be again?

 

With those thoughts buzzing on his mind like the Batfam group chat when someone sends a picture of a quality russian cat meme, Tim got dressed, and rather nicely. He remembered something Kori had said once about how if you want to feel nice you need to make yourself appear nice, some self care bullshit that really isn’t quite bullshit.

 

Tim’s come to realize a lot of stuff lately.

 

Bidding farewells to Alfred and popping a peace sign at Jason, Tim checked his phone again while leaving the house. It was implied Roy would be picking him up, the discount disco queen had a car and a valid license, and lo and behold Roy was blasting Gasolina in his volvo s70 as he waited outside.

 

Mr. Arse 11:30 // Are we going or not? I’ve got Reese’s in my car too that are a little melted but you’re free to have some if you want :>

 

Tim smiled, opening the passenger side door and sliding in. “Hey, Roy.”

 

“Hey yourself, mister I’m-horrible-at-texting-back.” Roy shot a smile at Tim, lips pulling up a little unevenly while his nose scrunched--something he remembered Jason would call cute but only when Roy did it.

 

“Ah well, you know me. I have no thumbs, can’t text.” TIm tucked his hands into his sleeves and raised them, eliciting a most joyful snort from everyone’s* favorite redhead. 

 

* Mostly everyone’s, specifically the batboys--Bruce’s favorite redhead is Kate Kane

 

“So, food. I saw IHOP was having some good deals on combination platters, and you know how I love the best of both worlds-”

 

“Really Roy, bi jokes with my breakfast restaurant?”

 

“Absolutely not! It’s a Hannah Montana joke, fuck I feel old.”

 

The two laughed, and Tim found himself enjoying the friendly aura that surrounded Roy. Sure he was spontaneous and kind of impulsive, but he had a way of opening people up, and Tim was thankful for it.

 

“So, what’s been good with you guys at the manor? Is uh, is _he_ okay?”

 

Tim felt a wave of sympathy smack him in the face, Jason. Stupid Jason, breaking things off with Roy and snarling in his face after miscommunication. Roy had almost died on that mission, Dick too, but people blamed Roy for it, even though he’s the reason Dick was still around. 

 

“Yeah, he’s pretty okay. Tired, you can see it on him. He’s been hanging with Artemis and Bizarro lately.”

 

Roy let out a little hum in reply, and Tim swore he would kill a man for Roy. Fuckin baby boy Roy, hell Tim’ll go deck Ollie in the face for him.

 

“I had an intellectual debate cut short because it descended into memes the other day, Garth was there, there were tears, someone laughed so much they vomited.” Roy told Tim as he pulled into a parking space outside of IHOB, the international house of bitches. Getting out, the two continued that strain of thought.

 

“Holy shit, Roy. What class was this?”

 

“Believe it or not, it was German. Hank, Hawk Hank, said, and I quote, _‘How much do Eagles weigh? Like a pound?’_ and we all just lost it.”

 

Tim was wheezing by the time they got inside, and Roy kept telling him highlights as they waited to be seated--ISHLOP was unusually busy. “Mhm mhm, Garth decided that if we all got stupid powers that I would have crabs for hands, like. Not crab claws, but my hands would become crabs attached to my arms, and Donna, fucking Donna, she was dragging Karen for calling Karl Marx a daddy--’ _There’s nothing edgier than communism’_ followed by-”

 

Roy went silent, wide eyed in what could only be described as horrified amazement. Tim followed his gaze, coming upon the horrendous sight of a grown man with a Shrek tattoo on his arm. A little swirled banner underneath saying “just married,” followed by a date.

 

So this was how today was going to be, okay. You know what? Tim was digging it.

 

And how today was going to be it was. The two vigilantes found themselves at the mall, wandering around, sniffing candles at yankee candle, directly avoiding hot topic. They managed to wander into Claire’s and find some tacky 1970’s star earrings that Roy bought for the fun of it. The day turned from good to great when they found themselves in front of a Build-A-Bear Workshop. Tim could feel his inner 5 year old salivating over the idea of cute as hell stuffed animals. 

 

“You want to go in?”

 

“Oh _fuck_ yeah.”

 

This is how Tim found himself watching the poor BAB employee fisting a strawberry scent pad up a fat fucking bulbasaur’s ass like in that one bad tumblr post he’d seen posted on ifunny.

 

It was monumental.


	6. Royconnaisance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I fuckin updated you're welcome Julie

**Chapter Six //**

 

[“Duct tape can’t fix stupid, but it sure can make it quieter!”]

[Roy vlogs his missions (Royconnaisance) while Kori records them, she doesn’t know how to use a phone camera and more often than not ends up recording herself]

 

Things had hit a mundane normal and--

 

Who I am fucking kidding right now, when is anything involving the Batfam & Co. normal?

 

Things had hit a new sort of good rock bottom, you could say. Dick was living off energy drinks worse than Tim ever did, Tim was currently bound to his bed for bedrest since he took a space jam slam into the ground on his most recent patrol and McFucking got his shit wrecked, Jason was MIA which means he peaced out to go live like a ninja turtle with Artemis. Again. And Damian? He was the only “normal” kid around Bruce right now, and Bat Senior was blessing whatever gods existed because life was a hellhole but at least Damian wasn’t drinking himself to death on taurine. 

 

Also? Bless Duke, Bruce had called him in to help take Red Robin’s place, well, not really? He was just needed as Signal since RR was down for some R&R. But I digress, Bruce liked having him around nonetheless, he had good manors and he and Dick got up to some shenanigans, but he was far better an influence than Jason “You Only Die Twice” Todd. 

 

And if you thought their day life was bad, their nightlife was worse.

 

Just, spandex, guys. Spandex for days. Tight asses BUT AT WHAT COST?

 

With Jason out with the New™ outlaws, and Ollie back in Star City, Roy was tagging alongside Dick a whole lot. Both during nightlife and during the day, knuckles the echidna was lonely and he found a friend in his old Titans buddy. Kori was there too, and Donna would join occasionally. And Garth? Who knew where he was, probably sleeping with the fishes, in both ways, and, yes, pun intended. 

 

In short? Royconaissance.

 

“Hey, Speedy. How are things on your end?”

 

“Excuse you, Nightdick, it’s Arsenal now.”   
  
“Mhm, right. I’ll keep that in mind, gay robin hood.”

 

“Hey!”

 

Dick laughed to himself as he scaled the side of a building, an angery tall redhead flipping him the bird from below. 

 

“I thought you loved me, Nightwing!”

 

Dick glanced back over his shoulder. “I do, Arsenal. I really do.” He turned back forward and pulled himself over the edge of the building, landing in a semi-awksquak squat, and coming face to face with Kori holding a cellphone at him.

 

She had a shit-eating grin while she cooed at him, a small “cuuuute” in reference to him and Roy.

 

An odd thunk and shwoomp later, Roy was tumbling onto the roof with them, scuttering back to the edge to grab the arrow he used--use, reuse, recycle, dudes. Be green. 

 

“Arsenal, say hello to the camera!” Kori shoved the phone in his face.

 

“Wait what?”   
  


“I’m recording and people are watching!”

 

Roy peered at the screen. “Honey, it’s just recording you.” He touched the little icon to swap from the frontward facing camera to the main one, then introduced himself and Nightwing to whoever was watching it. 

 

“And now, let’s go kick some ass.”

 

Dick smiled. “Oh totally.”

 

Time passed as the trio bumped into Batman and Robin, found a dead rat in the road, and checked old warehouses by the docks because like, every villain likes to do shit there, which is idiotic because you think they’d get the memo that it’s a bad idea. Villains these days are losing their touch smh.

 

Bursting through one of the windows with style and flair, the trio was met with the sight of, ooOOOh hey. Villains.

 

Easy ones, though. Kori just chilled in the air with the phone camera while NightDing and Arse kicked tail, paging in G.C.P.D. and the Big Bat. To be honest, the trio was let down with this sad nefarious drug bust. Where are the fun goobers when you want them.

 

Ah, never mind. They’re all in Arkham. 

 

While most of the dudes were out cold, there was one member of whatever gang of bamboozled baboons that was screaming nonsense. Roy, ever practical, slapped a piece of duct tape over his mouth. 

 

“What the fuck, Arsenal?” Dick asked as he finished shutting down the computer systems that were running in The Warehouse™ 

 

“Duct tape can’t fix stupid, but it sure can make it quieter!”


End file.
